


Knight of Cups

by albawrites



Series: On the Way to Piltover [5]
Category: League of Legends
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 11:09:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5002453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/albawrites/pseuds/albawrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twisted Fate reflects on the moments with his partner that have led up to this point, moments that have influenced, inspired, and exhausted him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knight of Cups

**Author's Note:**

> RATING: Teen. Implied man sex oh man.  
> DISCLAIMER: None of the characters are owned by the author, simply written for amusement and the fact that I wasn't satisfied with the lack of stories with these two. Their adventure continues here.

"Well, this is a might bit embarrassing."

The man across from him isn't small, but he doesn't feel intimidated by him. No, not in the least; he's gambled with worse brutes, even if this one has friends. Sure, he and the other man have just both thrown down four aces, which is impossible for anyone playing fair, but he never plays fair. It was possible for this to happen, and he supposes he should have been more careful, but now he's curious as to what the man across from him will do.

Which is, apparently, burst out laughing.

"Son of a bitch!" the man says, grinning. "You're one piece of work."

He gives a little dramatic bow of his head. "I take it you're gonna to want your money back."

"Anyone else would try to cut off your hand _at least_ for this kind of crap."

"They've tried." He gives his best charming smile.

"I've got a proposition for ya. Feel like talkin' it over a few drinks?"

He considers, then shrugs. What the hell. "Only if you're buyin'."

That earns another chuckle and the man holds out his hand. "Graves. Malcolm Graves."

Smoothly, the hand is accepted. "Tobias."

 

-=-=-

 

No prison in the world yet has been able to hold him. Many have tried. Hell, most law enforcement can't even catch him, but some were lucky enough to cram him into a cell, just not for very long. Unfortunately, Tobias' partner isn't as lucky.

And he knows he can't keep Graves waiting.

A lurch in his gut, and Tobias teleports himself into the lobby through his Gate and Destiny. The guard tries to react, but he's already swinging a pipe into the guard's skull, knocking him senseless. Behind the bars, Graves looks on, speechless.

Tobias bends down and swipes the keys before he makes his way to the jail cell. Unlocking the door, he performs a little bow, grinning. "I do believe you're in need of a rescue."

"Hell," Graves says with a laugh, stepping out and giving him a friendly clap on the shoulder. "I was damn right partnering up with you."

"Glad to know you ain't regretted it yet, Malcolm." Tobias chuckles. "Get your gun, I'll check his pockets. Then we should be on our way.

 

-=-=-

 

It's a common enough method for him by now, and he gains pleasure from it. Sometimes when work is scarce and he doesn't feel like playing a round of cards that night, Tobias is able to find someone who looks like they have a full purse and charm his way with them. At times he robs them blind or finds out some interesting information while sleeping them them. Either way, it's a good time and he's working. It's a thrill and fun, and he has no regrets.

The Demacian noble he's just had sex with is complacent, playing with one of Tobias' braids.

"You could live a very comfortable life with me," the noble muses, and Tobias can't even remember the man's name. "My estate is more than sufficient."

"Mercy me, are you inviting me home with you?" Tobias muses, not quite flirting. "I'm immensely flattered, sir."

The noble smiles and tucks the braid behind an ear. "I enjoy you."

Oh good, it's one of these. The ones that think him barely above a whore. Tobias wears a tight grin; he doesn't frown upon the work of a prostitute, but it's not the life for him. Sure, he can get the temptation of living day to day in comfortable riches and occasionally having to sleep with this man. It's not in the cards for him, though.

"Thank you kindly." Tobias gives a light laugh, in a way that suggests no hard feelings as he sits up to move away. "But I've my own life and work to tend to."

There's a tight grip on his arm. It's not a warning, it's a claim, and Tobias isn't impressed.

"And if it's not a request?" There's danger in the noble's eyes.

Tobias freely sneers now. "Really? We had a good night. Don't ya spoil it none with this nonsense."

Abruptly, he's forced down, his arm behind his back. The noble's grip tightens and Tobias grunts under his weight while words are growled into his ear: "River rat, what the hell else are you good for?"

Just as he's reaching for a card, the weight on his back is suddenly lifted and he hears the distinct **CRACK** of a fist colliding with flesh. Tobias looks up, and the noble is nursing over a broken nose now with a furious looking Graves standing nearby.

"Asshole," Graves spits. "Tobias, you good?"

"I had it, y'know," Tobias says, holding up a card he had just pulled from his thick braids. He then adds, "Yeah. I'm good. Thanks, partner."

Graves tosses him his pants. "Just ditch this bastard soon as you can. We're across the street."

It's hell of a thing. Tobias has spent most of his life on his own, running from town to town and protecting himself. This isn't the first instance of someone attempting to sweep him off his feet and rescuing the poor lowly river boy, trying to buy him, or trying to force him into a new life. Instead, someone has his back. A friend looking out for him. Or...

Tobias smiles warmly. "See you there, hotshot."

What good fortune indeed.

 

-=-=-

 

The night had been long and a job well done. The heist on the Piltover vault was a smashing success, with dozens of pissed off officers of the law. As Tobias, Graves, and the rest of the crew ran away laughing with their haul, they had to steal a boat away to sail to Zaun. It really just left Graves and Tobias to do the _sailing_ part; the rest of the crew, for all of their worth, barely had much to do with ships in their lives. Graves was born in Bilgewater and the know how was inevitable, and Tobias knew more about sails than swimming, frankly.

At the end of the boat, Tobias watches the crew finally die down their rough housing and finally haven fallen asleep. Next to him, he can see that Graves is close to dozing off himself. He cracks a fond smile, watching his friend fail to really stay awake. Some of his hair has grown out, his bangs hanging out from his headband and drifting into his face.

Maybe it really is luck. Ever since he'd been exiled, Tobias had been convinced that he couldn't trust anyone again. A boy's heart had been hardened after his family and friends forced him to stay behind, turning their backs on him while he watched the sails of the river folk leave him. Through his years of growing on his own, he'd partnered with people time and again, but he'd never _truly_ trusted them. 

It's surprising to think of it, but Graves is the first person in a long time he's come to trust this much. Hell knows he's more than earned it in the past several years they've been running together.

Absently, he fingers the hair falling in his friend's face, then grins when he watches his brows twitch.

He wonders how much he could afford to be honest with him.

His fingers, quick and agile as they are, have gone off without him thinking, twisting the bangs into a tight braid.

"Mm?" Graves grunts, opening an eye.

Tobias' fingers go still. "Figured you could use a new hairstyle," he says, playing his voice up to be sarcastic as possible.

"Yeah?" Graves blinks awake and looks at the single braid in his hair, then he snorts and says, "Eh, I'll keep it."

"Suppose you don't look so bad with it." Tobias feels himself ease back with a chuckle. "Still not as pretty as me, though."

Graves rolls his eyes, laughing. "You arrogant ass."

Tobias settles some of his weight against his friend, getting comfortable. "Takes one to know one."

 

-=-=-

 

"You made th' right call," the Brick says behind him.

In the heat of the job, Tobias saw that it was going badly. Even before they tried to pull it off, he said he was wary about it, but Graves told him not to worry. Just to have his back. Just to stick with him, and it'll be fine. But there was no way out for this one if they were caught, and it was going south. Everyone knew. Everyone but Graves knew, apparently. So they all pulled out at Tobias' word, and Graves was taken away.

He can't do his old trick. He can't just go in and shift and they run out. The Locker is not a prison he's been to, and one he hopes he never ends up in because escape is impossible. No one has done it. There are tales and rumors of the place, and Tobias hates himself in that Graves has ended up there.

Tobias stares over the horizon of Zaun's structures.

"Suppose so," Tobias murmurs, and he wishes he was wrong. If they stayed, they'd all be in there. "But we ain't leavin' him for long."

Not for the only person who's ever looked out for him.

 

-=-=-

 

Like the job, the rescue goes south. Helplessly, Tobias watches it all fall apart as the rest of the crew perishes. Skulls crushed or bodies shot up, melted with acid -- some twisted and grisley fate as they meet their end. For all of their hard work, Tobias is no closer to rescuing Graves, and he has to run for it again. He hates having to do this twice, but he's gotten men killed for it, men he's worked with, and now there's nothing he can do for Malcolm.

No man has ever escaped the Locker. Every bit of Tobias' being hates it, but Graves is as good as dead in there.

He will never see him again.

The journey from Zaun to the Serpentine River is a long one, and it is grueling. The weight of their choices is on his shoulders, and it is a difficult burden. There was no opportunity to gather the bodies of the dead crew, and Malcolm is even further away. It's hard to come back to the river after all these years, but he knows why he's come back, even if it's just for one task.

He sees no sails, and for that he's grateful. This moment is private, and he'd rather mourn to himself than run into the people who exiled him. As a child, it felt like the entire world turned its back on Tobias. For a time, he felt that he could rely comfortably on Graves, but he knows his choice has killed the one man who's ever stood by him, even if it was to save himself and the others.

In the end, that didn't matter. Tobias is the only one who got out, and it hurts.

Tobias presses the palm of his hand over the water of the river, watching the water run between his fingers. He looks down, somber as it goes by. It's symbolic in a way; for all that the ache in his chest remains, the rest of the world keeps on going. The world doesn't care how bad you've suffered. All that you can do is lay down that part of yourself and carry on.

He withdraws his hand and reaches into his pouch, pulling out the candle he'd brought with him. After placing it on its holder, the candle is lit and placed into the river. The light slowly drifts down, further and further away from him.

He swallows hard, and returns the name Tobias into the river, saying good-bye to Malcolm Graves.

Twisted Fate walks away from the river, to a new life.

 

-=-=-

 

Years have rolled by. Money is easier to hoard when you have no one to share it with and he saves it, looking out for only himself. During his life on the river, they couldn't afford anything nice. After he was exiled, he had enough to get by on. With Graves, he was comfortable going from town to town, swindling and stealing and living instead of surviving. Now, he's more cautious, and takes the time to enjoy the finer side of things in life. There's no reason not to.

His beard's grown out. Twisted Fate hadn't been sure at first how he wanted it to look, but he vaguely remembers how Malcolm used to get it trimmed and tries to follow that. As much as he said good-bye to his friend, he holds on in other ways.

when he hears that an outlaw broke out of the Locker, he didn't suspect who it was at first. Not until the news spread and he sees wanted posters for Malcolm Graves. Thrill, excitement, and relief first fill him, until he hears the second piece of gossip. 

He's out for revenge for the man who betrayed him. The man who left him behind. The man who sold him out.

There will never be a reunion of friends, he supposes. He's glad that Graves survived, but he knows how he works. When that temper fires up, there's no stopping him. Graves is the most stubborn man he's ever known, and if he's out for blood, he will do anything to get it. There will be no stopping him. It's a bitter truth.

Twisted Fate smiles to himself, but there's no fun to it. He'll just have to out run him.

So he does. For a long time.

 

-=-=-

 

Twisted Fate opens his eyes, swallowing his dry mouth. He looks at the top of the leaf-formed tent that Lulu has made for him and Graves from when they'd finally found a place to set camp.

The people of the river are usually born with magic. The gift of looking forward, and finding power in the cards. When he concentrates, he can warp himself a short distance -- with absolute sight of people around him. It's hard to look forward, and easier to look back. When he dreams, it's vivid and littered with memories. It probably doesn't help that recently his body was forced back into time, sort of, before Ekko fixed him. Now all he can do is think of the past, and he'd rather just be up and done with it. Some parts are pleasant, many are not.

He turns onto his side, and he watches Graves for a moment. The other man for the moment is sleeping soundly, but he knows that's temporary. Sometimes, the nightmares hold on too tight and Twisted Fate understands why. All he can do is try his best to soothe it away when it happens. At the very least, ever since they started sleeping together Graves is resting better. So there's that.

Silently, he places his hand over Graves' chest and lays his head on his partner's shoulder. Reconciliation didn't seem possible for quite sometime, but Bilgewater at least forced them to see eye-to-eye and the faults in each other. Beyond that, Twisted Fate isn't sure where this path leads with them. He doesn't know what Graves will choose, either.

"Mm?" Graves cracks open an eye, peering down at him.

Twisted Fate is quiet for a moment. He smiles faintly and shrugs, and Graves is wrapping an arm around his waist, pulling him closer. 

Graves has changed, a little. Still a thick-headed man who rarely knows when to back down, but he's actively trying to make an effort to listen to those around him. Honestly, Twisted Fate is a little impressed with him. Yet, for Twisted Fate, he's resisted from speaking in depth with him. To his surprise, Graves has respected that choice, waiting patiently for the day in which he's ready to engage with his questions.

He takes in a deep breath. "Malcolm. I'm ready now." No, he isn't, but he owes Graves the truth. He always does.

That makes Graves sit up slowly, and Twisted Fate finds himself pulled up with the other man. This close, his own eyes give off enough glow so that he can see Graves clearly in the dark -- not that the darkness has ever really been a problem for him. Graves' brow is knitted, and he looks tired but thoughtful.

"You sure?" Graves has the nerve and kindness to ask, and it frustrates Twisted Fate.

The card shark sighs and nudges his shoulder. "Don't give me time t'change my mind."

"Fine, then." Graves scratches under his chin. "When you were... affected by Ekko's machine, you knew something was different between us. You asked me what you did to make this work. I want to know what you meant by that, and how you knew so damned fast."

Twisted Fate knows that he'd have to speak from the heart. It's not the strongest trait for him, but he isn't about to back off now. He does his best to keep his eyes steady, looking at Graves' as he speaks, "It's simple enough for me to tell when you're treatin' me differently, hotshot. I know pretty much all of your behaviors. It was small things: you holdin' on too long, the way you looked at me, and you not knowing how to look at me. I didn't mind. Still don't of course." 

"And the other question?" Graves says, as if Twisted Fate could suddenly forget.

"Malcolm." He can't keep looking. He tries to glance away, but Graves is forcing his chin to turn back, keeping him there. Keeping him _honest._ Not his best feature. "When I was-- younger, I guess. I thought we were, I dunno, _romantically_ involved. I didn't know the whole thing, of course."

"And you wanted to know how we made that work."

Twisted Fate feels his mouth go dry once more. If he wasn't sure that Graves would get pissed off for it, he'd almost want to just vanish right there. Hesitantly, he takes Graves' hand, forcing his chin out of it. He holds his breath, and presses his cheek against his partner's palm. Absently, Graves' thumb moves, the rough skin brushing over him. It's not unpleasant.

"Suppose I did." The card shark looks at him cautiously. "I thought I did somethin' to make that into a thing."

Graves contemplates a moment before asking, "Are we?"

"That's--" Twisted Fate shuts his eyes. "That's up to you."

"You've said that before. You evade the point, and put the decision on me. Not that I don't appreciate the _courtesy_ , but I'm... listening, Tobias."

Graves is listening, and Twisted Fate has to speak honestly.

What the hell has the world come to? He wants to laugh for a moment. The very thought makes him feel like everything's flipped around. Graves resisting the urge to be impulsive and Twisted Fate indulging emotionally; when did all of this happen? He gives a sigh, both frustrated and exhausted. Eventually, Twisted Fate opens his eyes again.

"I want whatever you're willin' to give me," he says quietly. "If that's just sometimes we have a roll between the sheets, that's fine. I can live with that."

"But if you could have somethin' more than that, you'd take it," Graves says. It's not a suggestion, it's a conclusion. "Why's this such a problem for you?"

"It's not a--" Twisted Fate exhales sharply through his nose, frowning. "When I go into this sort of thing, I go in deep. That's a gamble, and one I have no control of. Not to mention years of assuming I'd never see you again, and I thought I'd have to put that on the shelf. Malcolm, I'm just-- scared."

The admittance is difficult, and that's clear even to Graves. The hand on Twisted Fate's face moves away, but the contact isn't severed. There are hands on his, and the thief isn't sure what to say to that either.

"How long? Did you think about this," Graves asks.

That's a painful question. Twisted Fate's hands tighten into fists, and he almost wants to pull away, but he feels Graves calmly stroking his thumbs over his knuckles. "Twelve years," Twisted Fate finally mutters. "You probably don't remember, but there was a night I convinced a Demacian noble to sleep with me."

"That's not very specific," Graves points out.

Okay, that's fair. "Older gentleman, the one that went on and on about his war badges and sword collection. He got grabby with me, and you broke his nose." It feels ridiculous to admit now, but that _had_ been the moment that he started to feel more personal inclinations with Graves. 

"I've punched plenty of guys for you." Graves seems to struggle with the concept, looking strangely troubled.

"Humor me, hotshot." Twisted Fate rolls his eyes a little. "Y'went out of your way to check on me. I didn't even need your help, and you went in anyway. That's what you do, what y'always did."

The gunman is holding onto his hands a bit more tightly. "You never _said_ anything--"

"Yeah, well, you never gave me any idea you'd do anything with another man," Twisted Fate replies a little sharply. "And what the hell was I supposed t'say while you were tryin' to kill me after you escaped the Locker?"

"So why the hell did you make me an offer in Ionia?" Graves demands.

"Figured it was a win-win situation." Twisted Fate finally wrenches his hands away from Graves. "If you said no, I'd have walked it off and things would'a been back to normal. When you said yes-- well, you know, I assumed that it was a one time deal. And we both know that ain't true now."

For a moment it's quiet, and Twisted Fate almost wonders if he should have just stayed silent. In most things, he only plays through situations when he knows the outcome. There are so few times in his life that he feels out of control or doesn't anticipate an outcome, yet this whole personal matter with Graves been just a well of uncertainty. That's such an unfamiliar feeling, and he isn't sure how to deal with it or if he likes it. The hands he plays are ones he has stacked in a way that bends in his favor.

This, on the other hand, has been delicately balanced. He doesn't know which way it'll tip.

"Twelve years," Graves finally says, sounding almost somber.

"Hell, that ain't your problem." Twisted Fate shrugs.

"How ain't it?" The outlaw is shaking his head. "I got out of the Locker ready to kill you. You didn't resent me for that?"

That just makes Twisted Fate laugh quietly. "I was kinda pissed. Mostly, kinda disappointed. But I wasn't th' one that was stuck in prison all this time."

Silence fills the air again, and this time he feels Graves' hand on his own once more. The grip isn't overbearingly tight, just resting there. Strange to think that after how many times they've had sex, somehow _holding hands_ is almost more intimate. Twisted Fate turns his own over, his fingers slowly sliding to link in with the other man's. "Malcolm," he says, and earns Graves' attention to his face. "Listen. I put my name back in the river because I thought I'd never see you again. When we put a piece of ourselves back in, it's not far off like a funeral. I said good-bye then, and you went an' did the impossible by gettin' out of a place I couldn't even break into. Then, hearing you were out for blood, I thought about it. Made sense you'd think I sold you out, but I didn't think I'd be able to tell you the whole truth either. Suppose that whole thing in Bilgewater was a mixed blessing. Could'a gone without the fish guts and almost drowning, though."

Graves seems thoughtful with the information, maybe even somber. His hand is squeezing Twisted Fate's, enough to express some kind of affection.

He can live with that.

"Figured you have the business to know, seein' as how I'm bearin' my heart an' all right now," Twisted Fate says quietly.

Graves' free hand comes up, holding the thief by the chin. It's to tug him down into a kiss, which is slow and still strangely gentle to him. "Do you want to give this a try?" he asks seriously when he pulls back, just enough to break the kiss.

"What?" Twisted Fate blinks at him. "Us?"

"That was sort of the implication, smart guy."

That's not a question he'd been expecting to come out of Graves' mouth. Twisted Fate glances away, wary. He's already aired his concerns, letting him know his own behaviors. He hadn't been lying; when it comes to a romantic relationship, he goes in -- deep. Suffice it to say, he didn't take Evelynn's break up with him particularly well, and he supposes in a way he's _been_ in this deep anyway. For a long time.

"If you wanna give this a try, I ain't gonna tell you no," Twisted Fate tells him.

Graves pauses, then nods. "All right then."

"That it? We a thing now? That's terribly romantic."

"Look, if this wasn't the middle of the damned night, I might'a thought of somethin' better to say," Graves grumbles, gently pushing him down.

"That's a thought, you saying something clever."

A harmless swat goes to Twisted Fate's shoulder. "Get some shut-eye. Can't believe I'm involved with a wiseass like you now."

"Consider us both lucky." In the dark, Twisted Fate smiles at him. In most cases, the expression is smug, self-confident, and with a calculating intent.

Right now, it's sincere and warm.

This still has a feeling of uncertainty to it, but Twisted Fate is willing to take a chance on it if Graves is.


End file.
